


It's the Little Things

by Myssi



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Deaf Clint Barton, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, garbage ex-assassins, literal compost, what is this actual trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-16 08:55:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4619277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myssi/pseuds/Myssi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The gaze meeting his own is more open than he's ever seen from the playful, cheerful archer. He never knew how shattered the man was."</p><p>In which Bucky can't stop noticing Clint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god who put this trash on my computer

It's the little things Clint does that makes Bucky fall in love. The way he tussles Nat's hair lovingly, gloating over the fact that he's the only one who can do so without the fear of being punched in the face. The way he likes to throw paper clips at Steve in debrief, hitting the star dead center every time. How he patiently sits through every single one of Tony's trials for new hearing aids as the genius tries to help Clint hear as well as the rest of them (it never works, but Clint is too kind to say so).               

The way he crawls in the vents when he's too broken to be around people.

These are the things Bucky first notices. Then he begins to notice others.

Like the way Clint fiddles with Bucky’s hair when it's in a bun, and can't keep his hands to himself on movie night. The only nights when Bucky doesn't walk away with what Clint calls a "padawan braid" are the nights when Clint falls asleep (nights when he's so medicated he has no other choice).          

It doesn't stop there though. Soon Clint begins to let his hands wander, brushing elbows with him and bumping shoulders. Fingers linger when they shouldn't, ankles tap under tables.     

When Clint reaches around him in the kitchen for an apple, Bucky's brain stutters to a halt. The archer's nimble fingers wrap around his hipbone, a fleeting touch Bucky suddenly aches to return.

There's one night when Bucky awakes to a cry - one that's not his - and he's out of bed and his feet are moving before he realizes.

He's not really sure how he ends up outside Clint's door. But he knocks softly, hears a quiet sob as an answer. He pushes it open, the mechanics of his arm whirring gently, creating ripples in the silence.

Clint is curled up in the corner of his room, his eyes too wide and bright. He's worlds away, Bucky realizes, recognizing the expression from memorizing it on his own face in the mirror. He kneels in front of the blond, reaching out to gently cup his face.

 Clint looks at him, and something clicks in Bucky's chest. The gaze meeting his own is more open than he's ever seen from the playful, cheerful archer. He never knew how shattered the man was.

He'd never felt his heart ache so much in his life. Not even after all those times saving Steve in his pre-war days.

He's not sure who moves first. He doesn't care. They don't say words, just make soft noises into each other as they kiss. It's gentle, each afraid of breaking the other beyond repair. Bucky helps Clint to his feet, guides him to the bed with light nudges, lips never leaving Clint's for more than a second.          

The hands on his hips feel like electric currents, and he's not sure if the keening sound he makes is human.

They end up on the bed, Clint curled to Bucky's chest, arms around his torso, clutching him like he's Clint's lifeline. Bucky tucks his chin over Clint's head, eyes on the door and breathing even.

Clint drops to sleep, exhausted. Bucky isn't sure when was the last time the archer had a full sleep - isn't sure if he wants to know. He feels his own body relax, his eyelids droop, and he doesn't fight it. He just sighs, tightens his hold on the archer - his archer, he supposes - and drops into sleep.          

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's going to be two more chapters after this, please stay tuned. Kudos and comments make me write faster.
> 
> Also I suck at dialogue so there is none.
> 
> Miniatures is my beta and the one who makes me write things because I send her sad headcanons, so if you like this you should thank her and read her stuff.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint could get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why do I keep finding litter like this, who is leaving this garbage lying around.

The first time Clint Barton saw the Winter Soldier, his breath caught in his chest because everyone conveniently forgot to tell him James Buchanan Barnes was beautiful.

Also, what the fuck kind of name was Buchanan?

Anyway. Because Clint had not been told that Steve Roger’s best-friend-gone-rogue was _a major fuckin’ hottie_ , he had gone and made a complete fool of himself in their first meeting because someone had decided it was a good idea to move Bucky into the Avengers Tower at some obscene hour (10 in the morning) without telling him (it had been in the meeting yesterday, after he’d turned off his hearing aids because Fury’s voice was annoying) and so Clint had promptly spilled coffee on himself.

He’d been too busy yelping and throwing himself at Nat to notice Bucky’s mouth quirk in a grin.  

That had all been over six months ago. And now Bucky has somehow ended up in Clint’s bed, sleeping easily with his arms wrapped securely around Clint. 

Clint remembers the kiss from last night in astounding detail. Truth be told, he’s not quite sure how he managed to seduce Bucky Barnes, but he’s not going to ask questions, especially not when Bucky is beginning to stir behind him. The arm under his neck and around his chest is gripping a little more firmly, the mechanics of the metal one around his middle whirring softly in the quiet of his bedroom.

There’s a gentle huff of air against the back of his neck, and then lips following it. Clint’s heart stutters.

“Good morning,” Bucky murmurs, and Clint’s air leaves his lungs slowly.

“Mornin’,” he whispers back, and the arms around him loosen slightly as he turns and shifts so he’s lying on his back, gazing into the grey eyes of the man next to him. Bucky’s eyes are cloudy and complicated, and Clint’s not quite sure what to make of that. He wonders if Bucky is regretting their kiss from the night before.

Those thoughts are quickly dashed, however, as a metal hand reaches forward and cups his chin, the fingertips brushing his jawline like it’s breakable. Warm lips cover his, and the sigh that escapes him is met with a smile from Bucky.

When they separate, Bucky’s thumb is stroking Clint’s face in small circles.

“You doin’ okay?” he asks, voice all Brooklyn accented and sleep-roughed. Clint kind of wants to record that voice and make it Bucky’s personal ringtone, because it makes his heart skip a few beats.

But that was a question, which means Clint needs to answer. So he shrugs, his eyes never leaving Bucky’s. “I am now.”

Bucky’s mouth quirks into that little half-grin he does. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Clint’s mouth purses. Out of all of his teammates, Bucky is the one who would really understand his nightmares to the fullest. Understand what it’s like to know the orders being given are wrong and to be unable to do anything but follow them.

He would understand what it’s like to be ordered to kill your best friend and almost do it.

But Clint can’t do it right now. Just thinking about it makes his stomach churn and his chest tighten and he just can’t bring himself to tell Bucky. So he just gives a tiny shake of his head before jutting his chin up and out. Bucky clearly understands the message, and he drops his lips to Clint’s once more, his hand cradling the back of Clint’s head while metal fingertips tap against the archer’s collarbone.

Clint loses track of time, because he’s decided Bucky has magical lips, but at some point the soldier pulls back and rest his forehead against Clint’s, his eyes no longer cloudy, but warm. “You ain’t gotta talk about it right now, sweetheart, but if you ever do… You know where I am.”

Then, as if to make a point, he leans back in and claims Clint’s mouth with his own.

Clint’s pretty sure he could get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, that was fast. 
> 
> One more chapter after this. I should probably get started on that.
> 
> Once again, Miniatures is my wonderful beta and if you haven't read any of her stuff you are actually depriving yourself of necessary things and should fix that immediately. 
> 
> Also, kudos and comments feed my soul and make me write things faster.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The real, genuine grin, and he’s so lost at seeing that look on his friend’s face that he just can’t bring himself to turn away from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The running title for this chapter during writing and editing was "steve your friend got laid" and honestly I should just name this whole fic that.

Something is wrong with Bucky. 

Okay, maybe wrong isn’t the right word. But Bucky’s different, and Steve can tell just by looking at the guy, and he’s honestly not sure if it’s a good thing or not because Bucky has been distracted this past week. It’s been making him worried. 

He wonders if Bucky is remembering more of being the Winter Soldier. And if Bucky is, Steve knows he’s going to be at a loss, because he has no idea how to help someone who had their memory consistently wiped and was sent out to kill people. Women. Children. Where did you even start with issues like that?

But somehow, Steve doesn’t think that’s the case. 

Bucky is starting to do little things again, things he seemed to forget that he’d done in the ‘40s. Like humming to himself while he’s making coffee, and tapping his spoon twice against the side of his cereal bowl before eating. How he always smacks Steve’s ass with a sock before he puts them on. 

And the weird thing is that it’s so natural. It’s like he never forgot these little habits, like he hasn’t lived without them for seventy years, including the three previous months he’s spent in the Avenger’s Tower. Like Steve was never looking for them to come back.

But now, Bucky is more Bucky-ish than he’s been since Steve found him again. And Steve isn’t sure why. 

He contemplates it as he makes his way down to the kitchen, jumping a little as there’s a sudden crash from a pan, quickly followed by, “Damnit Clint, stop that you little shit.”

Ah, good. Maybe Steve can find a moment to ask Bucky himself. He strides quickly down the rest of the stairs, then halts in his tracks at the door as he looks through the window in shock. 

Well then.

Bucky is standing at the stove in sweats and a tank top, barefoot, and his hair in a bun, save for a braided strand that always seems to be there on his right temple. By his right hand there’s a carton of eggs. Behind him stands Clint Barton. 

Clint is in a pair of boxers and a shirt that definitely belongs to Bucky, as Steve remembers very vividly that Natasha and Clint had bought Bucky shirts for each Avenger upon his arrival. The fact that it’s a Hawkeye shirt is laughable. 

Clint’s got his hands around Bucky’s torso, his right hand reaching up to rest over Bucky’s heart, and the left reaching around to grasp lightly at his hip. Clint’s smirking over Bucky’s shoulder, before pressing a kiss to the muscle he had been resting his chin on. 

Oh. That explains… A lot.

They haven’t noticed Steve, which is surprising considering they’re supposed to be elite assassins and top of the class. And just when Steve is about to walk away from the private moment – he can talk to Bucky about this later – he notices the smile on Bucky’s face. The real, genuine grin, and he’s so lost at seeing that look on his friend’s face that he just can’t bring himself to turn away from it.

Bucky turns away from the stove and pushes Clint back a bit, nudging at him until Clint bumps into a counter behind him. Clint reaches up and rests his elbows on Bucky’s shoulders, arms out and fingers joined loosely. Bucky’s hands rest loosely on the archer’s slim hips, thumbs circling his hipbones. Something is said, too softly for Steve to hear, and Clint chuckles. Bucky leans forward to snatch away the laugh with a kiss, Clint’s arms coming back to rest one hand on Bucky’s shoulder while his left cups the back of Bucky’s skull. 

That’s when Steve averts his eyes, smiling softly to himself. 

Clint and Bucky are, quite easily, the most broken members of his team right now. Clint still hasn’t shaken off the experience of being under Loki’s control, and Steve isn’t sure if he ever will. And Bucky is a whole mess of issues that Steve has little hope of tying back together. 

But it would seem that they’re picking up each other’s pieces for him. 

He glances back up to see the two men leaning their foreheads together, and Clint’s mouth is moving. Bucky straightens for a second, then darts forward again, pressing his mouth to Clint’s neck. Clint visibly jumps before smacking Bucky’s shoulder, his head thrown back and the sound of laughter coming through the closed door. Bucky pulls back and turns to the stove again, smirk in place, and Clint settles behind him again in their previous position. 

Steve decides it wouldn’t be too bad if he went in for some breakfast. He closes his hand on the handle, and pushes the door open. 

“Morning boys,” he greets, and they two men look up to him, relaxed and easy, and clearly not intending on moving away from each other anytime soon. Steve smiles, and they smile back, and Steve thinks that maybe this is the best thing to ever happen to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap everyone! Thank you for the kudos and comments, it really encouraged me. I haven't written in almost four years, so this really helped to push me through. 
> 
> If you liked this fic, you should keep an eye out for my next WinterHawk work, which is a college AU where Clint is an Animal Science major (yay farms) and Bucky is veteran amputee who can't figure out what he want to do, but he really like to fence. 
> 
> Seeing as I myself am an Animal Science major, pretty much everything Clint has done in the story is something I've done or seen done. It's pretty funny. However, I am in school currently, and working as always, so my writing process will probably be slowed down a lot. The first chapter is about halfway done (ish) depending on how long it decides it wants to be. 
> 
> As always, a huge thanks to my beta, Miniatures, and if you haven't read any of her work I'm astounded at you and you should correct that now, please. Go and encourage her to write WinterHawk trash, it's not fair to just make me do it.


End file.
